best of intentions
#4
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     There it was again; that itch, that terrible and unreachable thing. He had felt it with Conri. He had felt it with Iskata. Now he felt it with this boy, and he knew that meant something. Ivory teeth, yellowing with time, parted in the salty air. Gabriel imagined he could taste blood. “I don’t give a shit,” the Aquila snapped. No hesitation as he crossed out of the claimed lands, no hesitation as he continued his advance. The arrogance of these wolves was too much—he had tolerated it for the sake of peace, but he could only do so much when they continued to push.
     Someone had to be an example. “You get your ass moving or I’ll take the rest of your fucking ear off,” he growled, muscular body closing the distance between them. In a few moments it would vanish completely, and the wolves would have a martyr.


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